“What? No.” He shook his head firmly, trying to jumpstart his brain. “No. I’m not with anyone else. That was just… more than I expected.”
Stepping away, they looked warily at one another.
“Me too.” She frowned. “Maybe it’s too much like repeating history. I mean, it’s weird, right?” Her brow arched in question.
She looked calm, but he sensed that their kiss had shaken her. Their chemistry wasn’t ordinary, and he wanted to see where it led. But to do that, he needed her to relax. He leaned against the countertop opposite her, fighting for calm. “Not really. It was only a kiss between two unattached adults. There’s nothing strange about that.”
It was the right thing to say. The muscles in her shoulders relaxed in visible relief. “You’re right.” She sent him a slow smile. “I think all of this is just overwhelming.”
“Understandably. I feel the same way.”
The sun was bright in the kitchen as they stood together. The thread of friendship he felt in that moment was a surprise, but welcome. He realized that he liked her, not just her looks, but as a person. She intrigued him. Her brain, her personality, what made her tick. He wanted to know more. Wanted to get beneath the surface and see what was there, what had brought that guarded look into her eyes.
“I should probably get going.” She sent him a small smile of apology before retrieving her purse. “I’ll let you know if I find anything in her journals.”
“Same here,” he said, walking her out the door.
“Thank you for this. I know you didn’t want to be involved.”
“You’re right. But I’m glad I am.”
“I’ll be in touch.”
He watched her climb into her car before driving down the lane.
He knew she’d be back. If there was anything Grant felt sure of, it was that he and Natalie had begun something.
When a woman like that came along, a man would be a fool to let her go without seeing what was there.
Grinning, he went back inside. He was no fool.
Curled up on her grandmother’s couch, comfortable in a baggy shirt and stretch pants as the stereo blared a mixture of songs from her iPod, she leaned over her tablet, completely absorbed in her latest sketch.
In the days since her meeting with Grant, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking of him.
Her wrist loose, she drew long, fluid lines, the full skirt of a gown taking shape.
She was still in the creative phase of her line, and while her current sketch didn’t fit in with the smooth, cultured styles she had already created, it didn’t matter.
Her mind was on her grandmother, on her life.
Mimicking a nurse’s hat, she quickly drew it on the figure. Off the shoulder, the collar ending in points, it was a whimsical expression of a nurse from World War II.
She had designed three other outfits with the same feel, this gown only her latest in a long line of ideas.
She had kissed Grant.
Her stylus paused.
Was it still considered a meeting when you kissed each other? Yes. A meeting, she lectured herself. The kiss had been a one-time thing. A fluke.
Her head fell back against the couch, her eyes closing in defeat.
Oh, what a kiss it had been. Thinking of it now, days later, she still felt gentle pressure on her lips, lightning strikes surging through her body.
It had been so delicious in its intensity that it had startled her. Not so much from her body’s reaction. She wasn’t ashamed of attraction. It was the closeness that she had felt with him. The all-consuming feeling of rightness.
Her past relationships had been pleasant, but they had always come second to her work or family. If she had learned anything from her mother’s and grandmother’s lives, it was that a woman didn’t need a man to feel complete. Her grandmother had been a self-sufficient woman, capable of anything, while her mother had been a trainwreck, colliding with every platform she stopped at until there wasn’t a scrap of self-worth left.
A single woman could support herself. Accomplish anything that she set her mind to without a man at her side. Women could have the casual relationships that men had had with women for centuries and not be criticized for it. And that suited her just fine. She had never found a man that she had wanted to spend the rest of her life with. Thinking of doing so actually shot shivers of dread down her spine.
Her anxiety had only lasted a moment after their kiss, fading quickly with Grant’s casual comments. He hadn’t felt the same level of heat rock through him, and she was grateful. She didn’t need that kind of entanglement right now.
There was nothing wrong with enjoying each other, as long as it didn’t get serious.
It was just as he had said. They were two unattached adults who were attracted to each other. Why not indulge in a few sparks together until one of them wanted to move on?
She didn’t require promises or feelings of love. In fact, those things would have driven her away, turned her off from any type of relationship. She wanted affection, friendship, and a smoking hot physical reaction. Grant provided those things.
Setting her sketches aside, she wandered into her grandma’s bedroom. Thinking of Grant had her even more curious about her grandma’s past and her relationship with Edward Walker.
Opening a box of her grandmother’s journals, she picked one at random, knowing that they were all from around that time period.
Settling into bed, she started at the beginning. Reading about her grandma’s life, her thoughts, feelings, and wishes, Natalie felt even closer to the woman who had raised her.
As Natalie had gotten older, their relationship had changed from parent and child into a rich friendship. But no matter what, Adele had always been someone Natalie had looked up to.
After reading Adele’s journal, Natalie was beginning to see the woman her grandma had been. Her inner thoughts had been much more complex, her feelings much deeper than Natalie suspected.
It was difficult, and yet fascinating, reading about the war. Her grandma described the neighborhood boys as they left, reporting for duty. Then later on, about how they had been killed in action.
Natalie’s heart wrenched as she read about her grandma’s desire to help them. Help the soldiers that were wounded so that more might make it home to their families. There’d been no choice for Adele. She had done what she thought was necessary to save lives. What she thought was the biggest thing she could contribute. Her time.
And her compassion.
Adele may not have fought the enemy, she may not have traveled into dangerous territories, but she was a hero.
A hero who had fallen in love with a soldier.
Drifting to sleep, Natalie’s subconscious conjured images of the war, of a lost love between a nurse and a soldier.
In the morning light, the vivid dreams disoriented and unnerved her. She had been a nurse. Grant, a soldier.
In the dream, the love and desire she had felt for him was exciting. They had made her feel complete, safe even. But awake, those unfamiliar feelings made her unsettled.
Scrubbing the sleep from her eyes, she ripped off the covers. She needed to get out. Needed a change of scene. All of this, the mystery, the questions, were getting to her.
She arrived at work at nine in the morning, around the time her employees began rolling in as well, steaming cups of coffee in their hands.
There was always a buzz of excitement here. An explosion of ideas that ramped up endorphins.
“What are you doing here, Nat? I thought you were going to take a few more days.” James looked at her with concern after she sat at her desk.
“I couldn’t stay home any longer. I needed to work.”
He leaned a hip against her desk, his creased charcoal pants bunching as he settled in. “What’s going on? Last I heard from you, you were asking me for an investigator’s number. Is everything all right?”
She didn’t know where to start, but before she knew it, words were spil
ling out of her mouth. The picture, the engagement ring. The kiss. She told him everything.
“And how was it? The kiss.”
She looked up at the fluorescent lights before answering. “Mind blowing.”
“Sounds nice.” His brown eyes twinkled with mischief.
“It was. We have a connection. A strong one.”
“And that scares you?” James asked, correctly reading between the lines.
“Well, yeah. I don’t want to get seriously involved with anyone. I don’t want someone to start taking over my thoughts.”
“And that hasn’t happened already?”
Shooting him a look of exasperation, he held up his hands in a gesture of peace, his grin wry.
Natalie couldn’t help but notice how good looking he was. His clothes were tailored perfectly, his thick black hair smoothed back in loose waves. He was always neatly shaved, his bone structure and strong chin striking in appearance. “You’re ridiculously handsome. You know that, right?”
His eyes softened. “Thanks. And yes, I do know. Now, stop trying to distract me and answer the question.”
She shrugged, but couldn’t quite pull off the picture she was trying to portray. “Sure. I’m attracted to him. There’s nothing wrong with that.” She casually turned back to her work. “I’m thinking of getting involved with him. So, yeah, he’s on my mind.”
“Uh huh,” he said with a skeptically raised brow, but she didn’t say anything when he went back to work.
I don’t think of Grant any more than what is normal, she tried to convince herself as she drove home later. But even as she thought it, her words didn’t ring true.
“It is true,” she told herself.
Frustrated, she devoured her dinner, jumping into bed with another one of her grandmother’s journals when she didn’t want to think anymore. She looked forward to reading more, the feeling closely resembling how she felt when she had put down a novel and was finally able to pick it back up again.
She had been reading for a half hour when her eyes stumbled across the name Edward Walker.
“Holy crap!” She struggled to untangle herself from the covers, leaning forward as she absorbed the words on the page.
May 2nd, 1943
The base has been unusually quiet lately, and the clinic even more so. With new Seabees coming in soon, it is almost certain that there will be more injuries. I can hardly bear to see these men injured, forced to work, create, and fight to protect our country. But I am so proud of them. We have only one patient now, Edward Walker, one of the instructors. He is quite young for the position. I’d guess no more than twenty-five, but he seems capable enough.
He is obviously well liked. More than one of the soldiers has come in during their free time to talk with him.
I’m not exactly sure what happened, but during one of their sessions, he broke his arm. He should recover quickly, and I suspect that there will be no future issues with his arm once it’s healed. Which is rather fortunate, because I heard his family owns an orchard in the area.
God willing, he will make it back there when the war is over. That is my prayer for each and every one of these brave men.
Natalie leaned back, stunned. Here it was. Written in her grandmother’s own hand as if she were telling Natalie herself. That was how she had met Edward Walker. She’d been a nurse at the base’s clinic.
Continuing on, she read the story of how quickly they had fallen in love, joyously making plans for after the war. Edward had given her grandma the picture of himself in the orchards before the war so that she could imagine what their lives would be like once it was all over.
It was well after midnight when Natalie came to the end of the volume. Launching herself toward the closet, she hurried to get the next journal.
Sifting through the box, she couldn’t find it. She found the journal for 1945 but not for 1944. Opening up the book listed as 1945, Natalie could find no mention of Edward Walker there.
“What happened in 1944?”she puzzled aloud, frustrated that she didn’t know.
After tearing through the other boxes, hoping to find the journal misfiled, she finally accepted that it was gone. She still didn’t know what had happened to them.
Pressing the journal from 1943 to her chest, she sat on the bed, dazed.
Her grandmother had loved Edward Walker. The feelings she had written down were strong, more powerful than Natalie had ever heard her grandmother express about her grandfather. Something terrible must have happened. Natalie was sure of it. If her grandmother had felt this way, there was no way she would have let him go.
Dialing quickly, she waited until Grant picked up the phone.
“Hello?” he asked, his voice scratchy with sleep.
“Oh…” she glanced at the clock, wincing when she read the time. “Sorry. I didn’t realize it was so late. This is Natalie.”
“Is everything all right?” He sounded instantly alert.
“No, no. I mean yes. Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. Geez, my brain is fried. I’m calling because I found something in my grandma’s journal. I was wondering if I could come over tomorrow. You’ll want to see this for yourself.”
“Absolutely. I can’t believe it. Did you find out where they met?”
“The base. She was a nurse at the clinic there.”
“I knew that had to be it.”
“I’ll warn you though, my grandmother’s writing is very emotional. It might be a bit uncomfortable for you.”
“I won’t have a problem with that.”
“All right then. I’ll stop by tomorrow. Probably later in the evening. Does that work for you?”
“Yes.” He paused. “Why don’t you stop by for dinner? Around six? We can talk about it then.”
Her heart thumped heavily. Cool it, she scolded herself. It was just dinner. They both had to eat. They would just be eating together. No big deal. And if they happened to kiss again, that was great too. There were no ties, no strings. He hadn’t asked her to marry him, for heaven’s sake.
Her lips quirked at the corners. “Sounds good. See you then,” she agreed before saying goodbye.
Snuggling under the covers, she closed her eyes. Her final thoughts were of Grant before drifting to sleep.
* * *
Grant closed the journal, his head shaking softly. “They were in love. Why did they never say anything?”
Natalie reached out for the book, tucking it safely in her bag. Readjusting on the couch next to Grant, she tucked her legs beneath her to get more comfortable. “I don’t know. I wish I knew what happened between them.”
“And you’re sure the next journal is lost?”
“Yes. I looked in the other boxes, but couldn’t find it. Unless she kept it somewhere else, which is hard to imagine, it’s gone. I think she might have destroyed it.”
“What makes you think so?”
“Well, no other journal is missing. Just that one. The one that might have explained what happened to their relationship. I can see her throwing it out if it gave her bad memories.”
Grant couldn’t understand that. If he took the time to write something down, to preserve it that way, he would never toss it. Good and bad memories were what shaped a person. But Adele wasn’t him. “That’s possible.”
“Have you found anything else in your grandpa’s things?”
“No. Nothing yet. I started reading through his journals, but there isn’t anything about Adele.”
“Well, hopefully you’ll find something. If not, I’m not sure we’ll ever know what happened.” A frown furrowed her brows as she stared at the floor.
He swallowed hard. He wanted to soothe her, to see her smile.
“Come on.” He stood, taking her hands in his before pulling her up next to him. “Let me get you some dinner. There isn’t anything else we can do about this right now.”
She nodded reluctantly. “You’re right. I have a tendency to dwell on things.”
“It’s all ri
ght. Come on back to the kitchen,” he said, but continued to hold one of her hands, unwilling to let her go.
She laced her fingers through his, strengthening the connection. “I know I’ve already said this, but I really appreciate all the effort you’re putting into this search.”
“I couldn’t stop now if I wanted to. The mystery is too intriguing to ignore.” He pulled out a chair at the table. “Have a seat. I’m making chicken.”
“You’re cooking?” She settled into the chair.
He leaned down, evaluating the contents of the fridge before he glancing at her. “Yeah. Is that a problem?”
“No. Not at all. I’m just surprised. Most men don’t cook. Especially ones that have the pizza joint on speed dial.”
That provoked a laugh from him. “I’ll never live that one down, will I?” Placing two chicken breasts, an onion, and a red and yellow bell pepper on the counter, he began to dice. “I’m single. Unless I want to eat take-out every meal, I need to cook. And if I’m going bother cooking, it better be really good.”
“And are you? Really good, that is.”
“You’ll have to wait and see.” He said it smoothly, aware of the double entendre.
Her brow arched, but she didn’t comment on the undercurrents. “How can I help? I’m not the most skilled cook, but I can manage.”
“Just sit and relax. There’s wine chilling if you’d like to have some while this is cooking.”
“Would you like some?”
“Yeah, thanks.” He gestured to a cupboard by the sink with his fork. “The glasses are in there.”
As she breezed past, her delicate scent grabbed him. She reached up into the cabinet, her body stretching toward the glassware. She was breathtaking, all sleek lines and feminine curves. He wanted her in his arms again.
Glancing over her shoulder, her lips quirked. “You okay?”
His eyes snapped back to the food. “Yeah. Great.” His voice was gravelly. He needed a distraction. Scraping the chicken into a hot skillet, the meat sizzled in oil before Grant gave a few deft flicks of his wrist, coating the meat. “So, do you have any other family in the area?” He figured family was always a safe subject.
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